so be it

we could have been so real.
they would have seen us, a warm glow
under the clouds making love to tomorrow.

instead we are stone and anvil
instead we are martyr and pyre
beat and lyre, bone and pulvil.
























































































































































*((&&&


the sacrifices risen to god on smoke
the flesh becoming bread. a host of miraculous
conception. cannibalistic forethought
and vegetarian hindsight.

let us sleep.






















*()&&&




















































)(^^^



i wanted memory to reboot.
but it just keeps hanging onto the surface
as if carved in there. sometimes
if enough times go by
they cover themselves with a patina
resembling a new fate. one must
make thanks to the thinks that arise






















89&





thanks



























































































(&&&&

















dude, did you know they have suits
that let you fly now? for like minutes at a time.

how cool is that?































































































()&*&&









why hold on
the stuff of stars
needs to fall
into a small point
meld into collaboration
blend into radiation
the center of burning
exploding
into a new light